Blurred Lines
by Lady Chitose
Summary: Love and hate aren't opposites. Both are rooted in obsession. Sadomasochistic ZADR


Disclaimer: I am certainly not Jhonen, therefore I do not own Invader Zim.

A/N: I've been wanting to write ZADR for quite some time now. How this came to be, I'm not entirely sure, but it had something to do with The Joker in The Dark Knight, strangely enough. This contains mentions of violent sex and sadomasochism so if you don't like it don't read it.

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Love. Hate. They were opposites, weren't they?

The way he saw it, more similarities existed between the two than differences. Both were powerful feelings, often misused. And the way he saw it, obsession was the basis for both emotions. But then again, this was coming from someone who couldn't pinpoint the last day he'd felt loved in his life. He couldn't remember ever really loving someone either.

Why did emotions have to be so damn complicated? Then again, maybe it was humans themselves that made them so complicated...

Sighing, he stomped a foot into the dirt. Dib thought too much for his own good sometimes. He figured it was a way to pass the time since his social skills weren't exactly the best. In fact, the only being he could seem to have civilized conversations with was Zim, ironic as that was. That, of course, was when they weren't arguing over something or shouting empty, overused insults at each other. Not surprisingly that hadn't died down any since the days of elementary skool. With both of them having grown, they were also stronger, and often their quarrels grew to such an intensity they'd get physical.

He very clearly remembered the first time they got into a heated brawl for some reason. What sparked it, he couldn't remember, and yet he had memorized exactly how Zim's hand felt against his skin. The sensation was exhilarating to him. Whether it was more mental or physical he wasn't sure. In any case the thrill of being struck any moment excited him. Ever since then he'd always had at least one scratch or bruise as a souvenir from the last fight. He wasn't concerned with the wound's location, as no one seemed to care enough about him to want to know what happened.

Dib wondered when this masochistic streak had developed. Like any child at a young age, he'd cry and scream if he was even slightly injured. Now that he was a teenager he welcomed physical pain with open arms. The best reason he could think of was it added excitement to his otherwise dull life. Sure, the foiling of Zim's plans had been fun for the first few years, and he still did it, but that became a cycle after a while. Virtually every day of his life was the same, and Dib hated that monotony. Emotionally he didn't feel much other than boredom and desire to break free from the prison known as skool. He loathed the ridicule he received for no reason. Dib had never cared much about 'fitting in' or anything like that, but the constant harassment tried his patience. Admittedly he was a rather atypical teenager, but he didn't think that was a good excuse for others to pick on him all the time.

Life at home wasn't much better. His father was practically nonexistent since he worked all the time. He'd grown accustomed to this neglect, but he still longed for a parental figure he could see regularly. In a way he felt so detached from his father he felt as if they were living in the same house by coincidence, not because they were really family. Same went for Gaz; it was like having a classmate live with him. If she wasn't engrossed in her world of video games, she was insulting him and threatening to tear his internal organs out for no particular reason. Dib had no doubt she'd eventually do it too, which is why the time he spent at home was alone in his room, absentmindedly glaring at his computer monitor.

One of his hands stroked a day-old scratch on his upper arm. His fingers pressed into it firmly, but he didn't even flinch. The tingling made him smirk. Hopefully today he'd add a new one to his collection.

It was only a matter of time before the alien would be coming home. Dib remained hidden by a bush by a window of Zim's house, camera in hand. He'd tried the method of waiting until his disguise was off to record or take pictures before. Despite the number of failures, he still favored this above other spying methods he'd tried. It was probably the adrenaline from the possibility of being caught as opposed to the boring safety of his room. He actually would prefer to get caught because then if he made it home with the camera intact, it was at least more of a challenge. Deep down the thought of touching Zim and being touched by him was more arousing than he'd like to admit. Maybe it was the violence, or maybe it was the alien himself. Either way he wouldn't admit to enjoying it as much as he did.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar pattern of footsteps. This was accompanied by muttering. Dib figured he was talking to himself as he'd notice him do many times before. He held his breath as Zim approached the door of his house. Dib learned from previous experience that his antenna could sense just about everything within a certain proximity, so even breathing while hiding from him was risky. Luckily the Irken forced the door open and slammed it behind him. Waiting a few seconds, Dib finally exhaled.

He peered into the window. Zim's body was splayed on the couch as if he were exhausted. His face was buried into a pillow. Slowly his wig slid off his head and landed on the ground, revealing two antenna. Dib took this opportunity to capture a picture. He managed to capture two or three before Zim's head popped up. The alien removed his contacts, mumbling something about them feeling scratchy. He tossed them across the room and rose from the couch. An overly eager Dib tried to get a picture of his blood-red eyes. He succeeded, but unfortunately for him, Zim noticed.

His head jerked towards the window. He saw a few strands of the boy's black hair stick up. Cackling, he strode towards the door. Dib thought about running, but he saw the gnomes guarding the lawn and decided against that. Besides, the possibility of a fistfight sent pleasurable chills down his spine.

The door opened. Zim began laughing loudly once again. "You're still using this pathetic tactic, Dib-worm?" he asked. "I didn't think you were THAT stupid. Don't you remember how many times that has failed you? Or did the memory get lost in that awfully big head of yours?"

Dib ignored the big head remark. Trying to refute it had grown tiresome. "And you should talk? I don't see you coming up with any new plans to take over the world lately. It's almost like you've become human."

"Silence!" Zim's eyes narrowed into angry slits. "I am an Invader, I am far superior to you filthy worm babies!"

"If that's the case, then Earth would have been conquered by now. Any reason you're taking so long, Zim?" Dib shot Zim a sharp, intense glare, coupled with a smug smirk.

He chuckled darkly, his mouth curving into a deadly grin. "Because," he began, moving closer to Dib. "This is too much fun. If I conquer Earth, it's all over, your filthy species is dead. I could, of course, destroy this planet and take you as my slave, but you'd probably enjoy that. Anyway, I could take over this planet any day I wanted to." The small gap between them grew even smaller. "But watching you pitifully try to defeat me is far too amusing, Dib-human. It's like a game. If I had no one to resist me, taking over this planet would be boring. You see, I loathe you, I despise you, I hate you more than you can imagine, but I need you for my own entertainment." He forcefully seized Dib by the collar of his shirt. The camera tumbled out of Dib's hand, but he was more concerned about the sudden tightness of his pants.

"Well then," Dib replied, his breath hot against the Irken's face. "I suppose you and I are destined to do this forever."

"You can't last forever."

"Neither can you." He glared into the alien's fiery ruby eyes with a mixture of hatred and desire. "Likewise, this can't wait forever."

Much to Zim's surprise, Dib yanked him into a desperate kiss. Zim was in such shock his grip on the boy's shirt immediately let go. His body froze. Dib took this opportunity to drag him inside and pounce on top of him. His teeth feverishly bit the outside of Zim's mouth before his tongue came into contact with the Irken's. After a few minutes, the previously stunned Zim regained his senses and frantically shoved the teenager off of him.

"What the hell was that?!" Zim wiped his mouth in utter disgust.

"Oh come on, don't tell me you haven't been on Earth long enough not to know what a kiss is."

"I know what it is!" Zim shouted, his face hot. "I demand you to tell Zim what possessed you to do such a thing!"

"Heat of the moment," Dib said nonchalantly. He'd been planning to do that for a while now, and that moment seemed perfect. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it, because you and I both know you did."

"Zim did not enjoy that whatsoever," he hissed. "You filthy humans and your horrible human emotions!" He rose from the ground, intending to make Dib pay for his actions. He threw himself on top of the boy's torso and swiftly swung his hand across his face. To Zim's surprise, no cry of pain followed.

"Why aren't you screaming in pain?" Zim shrieked in frustration. "Zim just caused you pain! SO MUCH PAIN!"

Dib snickered, grinning sadistically. "Do it again. I don't care." He relished the feeling of angering Zim by not giving him what he wants.

"It's no fun if you _want_ me to do it, filthy, horrible earth stink." Pause. The same sadistic grin Dib had swept across Zim's lips. "Now if you begged Zim for it, then it would be fun, perhaps..."

Dib grinned, thinking of the direction the situation seemed to be progressing in. He pleaded for the alien to dig his claws into his shoulders, to stomp on his fragile body, to slap him with such great force his skin turned bright pink. It took a while for Zim to finally be sadistic – or kind, as Dib saw it – enough to acquiesce to these requests, but the fact Dib had to work for it made it feel that much better. When he was feeling defiant, he'd pin Zim against the nearest wall and press their hips together so hard it probably bruised them both. Zim didn't seem to mind, as he thrived on the human's moans.

Their sex became a violet ritual that often followed a physical fight, which apparently aroused them both. It was never slow and tender, but always rough and hard, as if they were desperately trying to get it over with. This was the case sometimes; others they took more time, but in any case both had cuts and bruises of some sort after they climaxed.

Even after this routine had set in, Dib didn't view the wounds he received from Zim any differently. He didn't see them as a sign he loved him, or even a sign he tolerated him. He saw them as symbols of possession. Dib was Zim's enemy, his hated one, and no one else's. He was obsessed with him and loathed him and couldn't get enough of him. In Dib's eyes, love was based on obsession just as hatred was, so perhaps in a sick, twisted way, Zim did love him. He didn't like to use the words 'love' and 'hate' or 'friend' and 'enemy' though. The way he saw it, the boundaries between them were blurry.

No matter what Zim's emotions towards him (if he was capable of emotions, anyway) Dib still constantly craved his touch. It made him feel needed. Without him, without this, he felt empty. One could say his heart was broken, but Dib wasn't sure if he had a heart for that matter.

This uncertainty jumped out of his mouth one time. They were lying on the floor naked, wearing only a thin sheet of sweat. Staring at the ceiling, Dib asked, "Do you think I have a heart?"

Zim glared at him, puzzled. "You're human, aren't you? You can't live without those beating things in your chests, correct?"

"Not that heart. I meant emotionally. I feel numb, like I don't have one."

Zim was silent. After a long silence, he grinned and sat on the boy's stomach. One of his robotic, spider-like legs shot out of his PAK. "You think you don't have a heart?" he asked, the leg hovering close to Dib's chest. "Well then, let Zim fix that."

Dib's eyes closed as he felt the metallic limb pierce his skin. He felt multiple cuts carve some sort of design into his chest. He groaned from the combination of pain and pleasure. Zim took his time with each and every cut, savoring the whimpers and moans the boy emitted.

Neither of them was sure how much time had passed when Zim finally finished. When he did, he remained sitting on the boy for a few minutes to admire his work. The crimson color screamed against his pale skin. Zim smiled and told Dib to go home since he needed to tend to GIR. Dib chose to wait until he got home to look at it.

He waited until late that night to sneak into the bathroom. The light flickered on. After removing his shirt, he noticed a rather uneven heart carved into his chest. What appeared to be Irken symbols surrounded the heart, making it feel all that more personal. Dib's fingers grazed the cuts lightly.

Smiling, he put his shirt back on and retreated to his bed. Was this whole thing sick and wrong? Perhaps, but as Dib saw it, it was better to be an alien's play toy than feel totally useless. This somehow gave him a sense of being, a sense of being alive.

This probably wouldn't last forever. No, this surely wouldn't last forever, but all the more reason to enjoy it while it lasted. Someday, something would happen, something that would separate them. He closed his eyes, trying to flush out the thought.

There was a likelihood someday Zim would grow tired of Dib, or vice versa. This kind of abusive relationship could only last so long before one killed the other.

As he fell asleep, he thought, _I am obsessed with Zim. I hate him for that. I hate him...so...much..._

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Dib is fun to write, particularly when he's masochistic. I think I might have went overboard with it, or maybe I'm just not to used to writing this. Anyway, hopefully I can churn out more ZADR fics in the future.


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